


Inevitable Conquest

by medievalcatpainting



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Conquest, Dependency, Descent into Madness, Drama, Gen, War, after main questline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21518656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medievalcatpainting/pseuds/medievalcatpainting
Summary: "We must kill them before they kill us"How many times has she heard this before? How many times will people use peace as an excuse for war?Ever since The White River Massacre, the dragonborn has dedicated herself to seeking peace, trying to put her adventuring days behind her. But war is the nature of the world and conquest is the nature of the dragon blood. In a desperate struggle against destiny, she hopes her faith in Lydia will keep her grounded.
Kudos: 3





	Inevitable Conquest

Legends say those of dragon blood were born to conquer. The innate urge to dominate, the will to ascend making up who they are. The being can fight the blood, try to seek peace and solitude, but all know the power of the blood of dragons. The world is the dragon’s right by birth and by deed, the dragon will have it.

“Lydia?”

“Hpgrk,” she tried to ask something but in her state of half-sleep, could not sound out the words and for the same reason, immediately forgot what she was about to ask.

“I had a bad dream, Lydia, may I sleep with you tonight?”

She did not bring a candle but, through the darkness, Lydia swore she saw the dragonborn’s coy smile. She swayed a little in the doorframe and Lydia heard the faint ruffling of feathers. She brought her pillow. It’s not the bed which would be the problem, it was quite the opposite. When they first moved in, the dragonborn insisted on a full sized bed with mattresses of imported silk, it was large enough to take up most of the room and make the bottom half of the dresser completely inaccessible. Lydia, at first, thought it was one of the dragonborn’s many good natured but poorly executed ways of caring for people but this was the sixty fourth time she had come to her room in the middle of the night and she now wondered whether this was planned from the start. 

“Lydia?”

Lydia’s eyes opened again, having already fallen back sleep.

“What?”

“May I?”

Saying that one word had already sapped her of all her strength so she simply lifted up the blanket. She flipped her pillow over to the colder side and felt her thane snuggle up against her back. With the cold pillow, the dragonborn’s warmth and the smell of lavender oil from her hair, Lydia had no difficulty drifting back to sleep. 

She was awoken in the night again by her thane, this time her sitting up. 

“What-” She pressed a finger against Lydia’s lips. 

“Someone’s here.”

Lydia sat up too, fully alert. She had gotten used to their quiet life but had not forgotten their life before. 

“Just one?”

The dragonborn sat still, listening and tracking the shadows of torch light from the window. 

“Thirty to forty, a few heavily armoured, most lightly, all armed,” she listened for a little longer. “They’re approaching the house, I’m going down.”

“Wait,” but she was already descending the stairs. 

Lydia reached over, removed her breastplate from under the bed and blew off the dust. She wanted to put on the rest of her armour but she saw the downstair candles already lit and couldn’t wait. 

By the time she got down, her thane had already opened the door. Imperials, about forty, mostly light armour, just like she said. The army already made their way to Falkreath Hold. 

“Oh, I have no quarrel with our lads in the army, dear captain,” she heard her say as she approached. “You are all welcome to anything on the farm, though we’ve not much.”

“Not much, eh?” Their leader made his way into the house, stepping through the dragonborn’s flower patches. Lydia desperately wanted to tell him to fuck off but held it in, though not for her sake. “No contraband, no secret stormcloak letters?”

Lydia saw the veins in her thane’s hand as she pushed herself off the doorframe. 

“We just grow flowers and seasonal vegetables, there’s not much of interest to men of adventure like yourself in here,” she clapped her hands together. “It’s a cold night, perhaps you would like to come in, sit by the hearth and rest for a while.”

“Aye, we’ll come in.” The rest of the soldiers began funneling in. Lydia got a chance to see the captain better in the well-lit room, such as how he tried to straighter to look taller than he really was and how broad and fat his chin was, resembling the heel of a foot. 

But the captain now saw her better as well.

“Who’s this?”

“No one of interest to you, captain,” the dragonborn’s eyes narrowed but her smile did not fade. 

“She’s got armour on, she one of those true nords, true daughter of skyrim?” 

“We should take her with us, interrogate her to make sure.” One of the soldiers spoke, his voice just as raspy as his captain’s.

“Aye,” the captain grabbed the strapped of her armour. “Maybe we should.”

Lydia reached for her sword but the dragonborn got to it first. 

“Get your hands off her you piece of filth.”

In one fluid motion Lydia could barely see, her thane drew the sword and cut off the captain’s arm at the elbow, though the sword, now dulled, tore more than sliced through muscle and tendon. She drew the captain’s shortsword with her free hand and cut through the next. Lydia had forgotten how strong she was, how fluidly she moved from one enemy to the next, closing the distance between them with pirouettes and jabs, how accurately she striked, every swing of her sword always cutting the ridges of their armou, never scratching steel. She had forgotten how natural fighting was for her. 

The dragonborn burst through the door, her cuts and flourishes chaining together and the imperials falling two or three at a time like wheat to a scythe. Only half remained before all of them realised what was happening. The words of her shout was barely audible through the crackling of flames and screaming of men. 

She dropped the swords and looked at Lydia, who was still standing in place. Lydia wasn’t sure if her smile returned or if it never disappeared at all. 

She laughed, sounding more like she was making the sound for laughter rather than actually laughing. 

“Fuck me,” she said simply, turned away and left. 

It took Lydia a moment to go catch up to her. 

She found her sitting by the river, the water’s gentle flow would sometimes rise and wet her pants and boots but she seemed not to notice. Lydia knew not what to do and settled for kneeling behind her. 

“What was-”

“It’s so easy,” her thane interrupted. “Do you know what I mean, Lydia?”

Lydia had no clue what she meant and said nothing in response. 

She laughed again and leaned backwards, falling into Lydia’s lap.

“I had a bad dream, Lydia, may I sleep with you tonight?” She repeated. “How many times have I said that, Lydia?”

She didn’t know what she meant. 

“Many times?”

Lydia saw the smile on the dragonborn’s face again, the one she always remembered her having. Though now, for the first time, illuminated by the moonlight reflecting off the water’s surface, Lydia noticed how her easy smile did not reach her eyes. 

“I’ve never once lied to you, Lydia. Do you know what I mean?”

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying out a minimalist writing style, focusing only on dialogue and short actions. All comments help, thank you for reading.


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